written him a short note saying she’d met and had dinner with Ballard but that they hadn’t had the opportunity to really get into the political discussion. She strategically left out that it had been because they’d been too busy talking about her job and his to get around to speaking about whether he and his company would back her father’s campaign. Darren would bring that up the first chance he got, so she made a note to be prepared for that conversation.
Ballard was an extremely proud man who took running his family business very seriously. He didn’t strike her as the kind of man who was simply along for the ride, taking what was given to him. No, he clearly worked very hard for the company, his vision for expansion that he’d shared with her seeming very promising. So much so she’d found herself offering to help him announce the new locations via a spectacular opening event. Surprisingly, he’d been very agreeable to that suggestion.
Dinner had turned out well, considering how it had begun. And the good-night kiss. Damn. That was all she could think of to describe it.
Janelle’s fingers froze over her keyboard with that thought. She’d been typing budget figures into her accounting database but now couldn’t do anything but remember last night.
That kiss.
It had been just...so...damn, again.
With a sigh, Janelle sat back in her chair, turning so that she was now facing the window. It was nearing six o’clock in the evening, so some of the local fishermen were pulling into dock with the second part of their haul for the day. Over the next few months traffic at the dock would slow to almost nonexistence as the winter chill settled over their little shipping town. Farther up the road, she could see more houses like the one they’d renovated that also sheltered local businesses. Most of them would be closing up for the winter. The fresh seafood market was one. Another was the gift shop that specialized in Wintersage trinkets handmade by Selia DuVane, an eighty-something-year-old lifelong town resident who used the colder months and lack of tourists to replenish her stock.
Black lampposts occupying each corner were now draped in orange-and-brown ribbons signifying the imminent arrival of fall, at which time the town wholeheartedly adopted the harvest decor. Staring out at the traditional, the safe and steady she knew she could rely on, calmed Janelle. Whereas each time her thoughts drifted to Ballard Dubois, which had been too many times to count, her heart rate increased, worry tapping an annoying rhythm against her temples.
“Whoa, she’s in deep thought. Maybe we should go.”
She heard Vicki’s voice from behind and turned in her chair.
“Please, that’s the best time to sit down and find out what’s on her mind,” Sandra quipped, already entering Janelle’s office and taking a seat in one of the honey-colored guest chairs that complemented her light oak desk and the warm beige-painted walls.
“Nothing’s on my mind but work,” Janelle told them with a sigh of resignation. The numbers she was crunching would have to wait a little longer.
Vicki had followed Sandra’s lead, taking a seat in the matching guest chair. This was after she’d glanced at Sandra, then at Janelle. Something was going on.
“What’s up with you two?”
Sandra shook her head. “Not a chance,” she said, waving a finger, one long fuchsia-painted nail in front of her. “You’ve been closed in this office all day either on the phone or staring at that computer. Now, I know we’re all busy but we never forget Monday nights. Never,” she reiterated.
Janelle sat back in her chair, clasping her fingers together as she looked at her friends. A part of her wanted to curse the fact that she had completely forgotten about their weekly meeting. Another part wanted to moan, because she could use a drink right now.
“I’m sorry—I had a lot of catching up to do since I took those days to go up to Boston and take care of the party for Rebecca. I just got caught up. We can go now if you want.”
Sandra shook her head once more. “Or we can sit right here while you tell us what’s going on.”
“She doesn’t have to tell us, Sandra,” Vicki chimed in. “We know what’s bothering her. The same thing that’s been on all of our minds today. We might as well get it out in the open.”
Janelle couldn’t help but feel a bit confused, even though she’d figured there was something wrong, with the way they’d both come in here. “What’s been on our minds, Vicki?”
Sandra rolled her eyes, picking at nonexistent lint on her skirt. “It’s not a big deal. Vicki’s just being melodramatic, as she’s been known to be before.”
Vicki frowned. “No. I’m being realistic and I’m sharing my feelings with my two closest friends. That is what friends do, isn’t it?” she proposed, arching an eyebrow at Sandra, who refused to look at her.
“Okay, you two, what is it?” Janelle finally asked.
“My brother took a job working on Oliver Windom’s campaign. Vicki thinks it’s a big deal. She thinks this election business might get weird for us, working together and being friends,” Sandra said in what sounded like one breath.
“That’s not what I said,” Vicki told Sandra, then looked at Janelle. “I was just concerned about us having to choose sides. We’ve been friends forever. Now your father is running for the House of Representatives and Sandra’s brother is working for his biggest opponent. That’s a huge conflict.”
Great, the election again. Janelle was officially tired of the pending election and it was still weeks away. Sure, she was proud of her father, always had been, but she just did not need this added drama in her life. Having dinner with a guy that she normally would stay a couple of states away from and now watching one of her friends stress over something that shouldn’t be an issue for either of them. Still, with a deep inhale and slow exhale, she understood where Vicki was coming from. She also knew that all her frustration was not coming from this election.
“There’s no conflict for me,” she told them. “This is a free country—vote for who you want. All I ask is that you remain informed while doing so.”
Sandra laughed. “Exactly. Do what you want. Hasn’t that always been our motto?”
Vicki smiled. “Yes, it has. But you sound like an infomercial,” she told Janelle.
“What? Why? I’m just saying that there are two things never to be discussed at work—politics and religion. Freedom to worship who or what you want as well as to go to the polls and put in your ballot.”
“And you don’t care if we don’t vote for your dad?” Vicki persisted.
Without thinking—actually, sick and tired of having been thinking on one particular subject all day—Janelle let her head fall back on her chair. She closed her eyes, bringing her fingers up to massage her temples. “Girl, please, I am so sick of thinking about my father’s campaign and what he needs to win this election. I don’t know why it’s my job to secure this last bit of support for him. Why’d I have to go out with the stuffy, arrogant man just to get his vote? Damn.”
The second the diatribe was complete, Janelle recognized her mistake. Her head jerked up to both ladies staring at her, Sandra with an elegantly arched eyebrow lifted in question, Vicki with her mouth gaped open.
“You went out with a man?” Sandra asked slowly.
Vicki held up a finger. “Correction—a stuffy, arrogant man.”
Janelle sighed. “Damn. Again,” she muttered. “I can already see we’re not going to leave this building without me telling you this, so here it goes. And before I start, it’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. Understand?”
Sandra and Vicki shared a conspiratorial look, then turned their full attention back to her.
“His name is Ballard Dubois. My father wants his family’s support for the campaign. He asked me to go out with him to gain